Reflections By Nuzhat Shahzadi

March is almost over . . . 20 March was the first day of Spring in the US. 26 March is the Independence Day is Bangladesh.

Eid ul Fitr will be celebrated by Muslims on Sunday, 30th March (some would differ on moon sighting and decide to celebrate on the 31st––a usual practice. I call it democratic dissenting. Cultures are different––acceptance instead of mocking is wiser).

It's a cold spring in our place. Some nights the temperature is as low as 32 F/0-degree C. However, in defiance, blossoms are breaking out. Daffodils are blooming––flowers of cooler temperatures.

On Eid, I usually share food with our neighbors. Elena and Will have 2 sons (Will has 3 more from his first marriage). They don't live next door. Actually, we bought our current residence from them. Elena is Italian––loves Bengalee/Indian food. She and I are good friends––we have a generational age gap.

Her older son Nathaniel (2.5 years) and my granddaughter Izara (3years) had several play dates before they enrolled in preschool daycares (2024). This also cemented our friendship.

"I love Briyani. . . samosa . . ." Elena confided in me while pregnant with her 2nd son Alexander. Briyani is cooked with rice and meat and special spices and ghee/butter oil. So, I cooked, and fed the pregnant young woman . . . the least I could do. She also introduced me to her parents when they visited.

Elena and Will are fond of my Eid-dishes that I carry to their house––since we have known them. The three boys of our next-door neighbors love my vermicelli cooked in milk, raisins and almonds. I have decided to share some of it with our new neighbors across the street, Michelle and Evan. Their dog Penny still barks at me!

. . . Early this month a relative and I were catching up on the current political situation in Bangladesh. This young man was visiting us. We talked about the war of liberation––he was born in 1991––2 decades later. . . The Pakistani military cracked down on Bengalees (former East Pakistan) right after the mid night of 25 March, 1971. In 9 months of war, almost 3million people were butchered, over a 100,000 girls and women were raped by the Pakistani soldiers and millions fled to India . . .

Pakistani-military when it was losing the war, strategically began killing intellectuals––scholars, Doctors, academics, Engineers . . . they wanted to stunt Bangladesh intellectually . . . they burnt down bridges, roads, buildings to destroy the physical infrastructures . . . Those they arrested and threw in their barrack-holes were tortured horrendously, constantly . . .

One journalist was among the arrested. A soldier (torturer) smashed his one finger, at a time, every day . . . Fortunately, they didn't have time to shoot him. He survived and was rescued with many others like him from the army- barrack after the country was liberated and the entire Pakistani army surrendered.

The journalist has become a painter these days. His fingers healed eventually (though misshapen . . .). My young relative was in love with the journalist's daughter from high school-days. They got married 2 years ago.